


Tell Uncle Simon

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is delivered into Simon's hands after a rave is busted, leaving him to unravel the reason why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Uncle Simon

This started out as a continuation of my drabble "Restraint," still is technically, but didn't go where I wanted it to go. For that reason I'm pretty sure I didn't really write this thing, just channelled it from some sappy plane. If I had written it Blair and Simon would have had the hottest sex you've ever read. Maybe next time. Anyway, this is a missing scene, of sorts, for "Secret." It's real short. I've got to thank Joanne for a quick beta-read and Ker for giving me a title. 

Disclaimer: UPN owns 'em. I just took 'em out to play. 

## Tell Uncle Simon

by Siren  


Simon answered the phone, pushing the papers he'd been working on across the desk. "Banks." As he listened to the voice on the other end, he pulled off his glasses, dropping them onto his desk. "Jim, he's probably out with some friends." He was beginning to wonder why he ever wanted to be a captain of his own unit. "So you had a fight. That doesn't mean he's going to go out and do something stupid." Simon suppressed a sigh. "If, for some reason, he turns up here I'll let you know." Shaking his head, he hung up the phone. He looked at the clock. 3 am. He would never get out of here. Second time this week, too. 

He started to pull the papers back to him, putting on his glasses, when someone knocked on his door. "I'm never getting out of here," he muttered before calling, "Come in." He leaned back in his seat as Officer Thompson entered the room, Blair Sandburg trailing behind him. 

"Sorry, Captain," Thompson said. "But we picked him up during the Rave/Drug operation. I, huh, thought you might want to handle this personally, sir." 

Simon closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't want to handle this, he just wanted to finish his paperwork and go home. "Thank you, Thompson." Glaring at Blair he added, "Sandburg, sit!" 

Blair dropped into one of the seats in front of Simon's desk as Thompson left the room. Simon observed his tired face and posture before saying, "Want to tell me what you were doing at a Rave?"   
"One of my students invited me," Blair answered, rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes. 

"This isn't like you Sandburg. You didn't tell Jim where you were going." 

"How do you know?" 

"He called here a few minutes ago. Said you two got into a fight and you took off." 

"He called here?" Blair laughed. "I didn't think he cared." 

Deciding it would be a long time before he could get home, Simon turned around and poured them both a cup of coffee. He handed a cup to Blair, asking, "Want to tell me about it?" 

"Thanks, Simon. No, not really." 

Blair raised the coffee to his lips, and gently blew on it before taking a couple of sips. Simon stared at the young man, his eyes drawn to those full, red lips. Shaking his head, he said, "Come on, Sandburg. You can't let a comment like 'I didn't think he cared' go by without some explanation." 

Blair took another sip. Placing the cup on the desk, he leaned back in the chair. "I'm just feeling unappreciated lately. I mean, I do a lot for Jim. And the last time he said 'thank you' I had to remind him to do it." 

"Let me get this straight, you went to a Rave party -- where illegal drugs were flowing freely, mind you -- because Jim doesn't say 'thank you' enough?" 

Simon's eyes followed Blair's hand as it ran through his curly hair. He briefly imagined his own hand entangled in those strands and again shook his head. 'Dammit, Banks, get a grip!' Pulling off his glasses, blurring Sandburg's image, he said, "There's got to be more to it than that. Jim hardly says thank you to anyone." 

"Even less to me." Blair sighed. "I don't know, Simon. I guess it all just got to me -- Jim disappearing, those guys trying to kill me, Jack getting shot. And then when it was all over Jim acts like it never happened!" He started to reach for his coffee then appeared to change his mind, planting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. "I was so scared and he doesn't seem to care." 

Simon rose quickly, coming around to sit on the edge of the desk. His hand started to drop onto Blair's head but then he moved it over so it landed on his shoulder. "Blair, you're wrong. He does care. He wouldn't have asked me to put out an APB on you if he didn't care." 

Blair raised his head to look at Simon. "He did?" 

Simon nodded. Looking into Blair's eyes, he saw doubt replaced by hope, and love. Simon knew who the love was meant for, he'd seen it in the other man's eyes on more than one occasion. "Yes, he did. He just got wrapped up in the Fed's questioning, that's all." 

"Yeah, he can be pretty single-minded at times." 

"What do you call it? Zoning out?" Simon laughed when Blair nodded. "Jim's been doing that since the first day I met him." Putting his glasses back on, he waved the young man away. "Go home, Sandburg. You two need to talk." 

Blair stood and started for the door. Stopping suddenly, he turned back to Simon, saying, "Um, Simon, my car's back at the Rave site." 

The captain sighed. "Sit down. I'll call Jim to come get you. I'd take you myself but I have to finish this report." Blair sat down, leaning back in the chair as Simon dialed. 

"He's here, Jim." Simon watched the young man lose the struggle to keep his eyes open. Lowering his voice, he said, "Why don't you come and take him home?" He shook his head. "Even if he had his car I don't think he should drive." Rubbing his own tired eyes, he said, "No, he's sleeping. I think he's just tired." He paused, listening to the voice on the other end. "All right, Jim. See you in a few." He hung up the phone and tried to get back to his report. 

A loud snore issued from the sleeping man's mouth. Simon groaned quietly. "Next time, leave me out of your lovers' quarrels," he muttered to himself. Deciding Jim's desk would be quieter than his office, Simon grabbed his report and left the slumbering anthropologist in peace.   
  


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